


After the Storm

by Time_Thief



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Faithshipping - Freeform, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Time_Thief/pseuds/Time_Thief
Summary: Faithshipping AU written for Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's Month 2020! In a world where physical contact with one's soulmate causes one to disappear, Aki meets someone she falls for fast...
Relationships: Fudou Yuusei/Izayoi Aki
Kudos: 3





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this:
> 
> Day 13 (July 19th): Flip the Script  
> We all have a favorite alternative universe we’d like to see Team 5ds in. Whether it be a coffee shop, college, or maybe even a glimpse of the timeline Z-ONE came from! Write a prompt based on any AU you dream!

Rain again.

Drops bounce off my clear umbrella. I watch the gray, crying sky. Neon pools in puddles on the busy, clustered street. The splash of my scarlet platforms disturb reflected pink. The glowing advertisement above reads, “Kotaro’s Piano Café – Best Crab Cakes & Ambiance in Town!”

The crab cakes are shitty frozen patties shipped in from God-knows-where. Far away from our coasts, that’s for sure. The bell above the door chimes upon my entrance. I fold the umbrella and shake off the droplets.

Lit candles flicker on every candle in the joint. The sprayed scent lingering in the air was supposed to smell like rose petals based on the can. I’d worked here long enough to not be able to smell it anymore.

The bartender, Natsumi, gives a subtle nod while wiping a wine glass. The cleaning cloth squeaks. She might’ve greeted me verbally. A customer sat at the bar. By the white lab coat, I recognize him as a regular.

His black hair is tied up – the norm for him. Gold highlights trail down the underside of his ponytail. He glances at me for less than a second before returning to swirling his index finger around the rim of his Manhattan cocktail.

Me? I need a good amount of sugar with my drinks. The smell of a rusty, pungent rye makes me gag. To reach the kitchen, I take the long way around the bar to avoid a whiff.

Boss is helping the lone cook in the kitchen. She smiles and wipes her hands on her apron. “Akiza. How were classes today?”

“Boring.” Hard to hear her over the twisting of burners and sizzling of crappy crab cakes. I shrug and place my coat on the rack, which is kept far away from the grill. I’m pinning up my hair in a tight bun – part of the uniform.

Boss lets me have free reign over outfits as long as they’re black tie event level. Today, I’ve brought a shimmery white dress with stardust patterns. The hem almost covers my platforms, which are the same red as my choker.

“Here.” Boss strikes a match against the box and lets the flame linger on the wick of a scented candle. It’s a bright orange, and the picture is of pumpkin pie. She loves buying up these things according to the season. I have an inkling fall is her favorite. She places the heavy, glass base into my hands and advises me to place it on the piano.

“Gotcha,” I say. “How are you?”

She hums a low note. I’m not sure what to say. See, a couple of days ago, the mark on her forehead disappeared. The marks look almost like a spread of water with a dash of red food coloring. Looking straight on at someone has them difficult to see, but a face turning makes it obvious the shape of the mark.

Boss’s mark was like a crescent moon. Now, the creases of her forehead are her regular dark shade of skin. The only shine left is her beads of sweat. She’s never worn a ring or talked about family. I’m not sure if she even met her soulmate before they died.

Or, it could be that…

No. Prying would be horrible. Besides, Boss is nothing but kind and respectful to me. She’s super nice to work around my course schedule, too. Pre-med is hell and she makes it a little more comfortable.

“You can chat with me about whatever,” I say. She smiles. It’s a little thing, but she did. I slip into the staff restroom to change into my dress. I carry the lit candle out into the lounge. The candle’s threatening to give out on me. I knew they kept the damn AC too high. I cover the top like I’m some kind of Olympic torchbearer.

Ouch! I stick my hot fingers into my mouth. Not the best idea. A chuckle sounds from the bar area. It’s the guy in the lab coat. Natsumi is grinning at me, too. Damn them. I place the candle onto the piano. I push my dress against the back of my knees as I sit on the bench.

Ivory caresses my fingertips. I close my eyes. Forget the pitter-patter of the rain on the windows, and forget the clink of the ice in the customer’s glass. Forget Boss and her tragedy.

Each shift, I start with the same song. To casual listeners, the soft piano melodies likely ran together like the puddles outside. That was sort of the point of the lounge – the music’s there but not in your face.

If I were to play the same set every shift, nobody would notice. It’s important to me and me alone that I mix up my songs. The first one, though? Always the same. It’s tradition. The song gets me into the mood of playing.

The tune was a first I’d learned, back when mom and dad got along, back when he wasn’t gone ninety percent of the time, back when we had family dinners every night. Back when I didn’t spend waking minutes finding excuses to stay away from what was once home.

The rain worsens. The sound of the sloshing threatens to drown my song. I intensify my pressure on the keys. When I open my eyes, I see my reflection above the ivories. Flashes of the pumpkin pie candle illuminates my mark.

The watercoloresque symbol is a shower of stars in the shape of a rainbow.

Ha. I should’ve thought before choosing this dress. Might give my “soulmate” the wrong idea. Whatever. The whole deal is bullshit. Any physical contact between soulmates makes the girl disappear. If they’re both girls? It’s a fifty-fifty. The system’s rigged. Like, us women have to worry about with pregnancy, periods, and randomly touching someone into fading away.

Being a girl sucks ass.

To top it off, most dudes cover their marks in some way. The douchebags are fine with the chance of their mate disappearing. Oh, unless their mate’s also male. Then? They’re lucky enough to both keep each other. I can’t stay mad. At least that percent gets to be happy.

And, oh, because of whatever fucked-up god made this system, the soulmate _is_ always the person you’re most compatible with. Those soulmate couples who don’t end up with half fading? Always perfectly happy.

I don’t want to live in this world. I keep my bangs wrapped back in a silver hairclip as a sign for whomever has my mark to stay the hell away. No individual could be worth giving up the life I have – all I’ve worked towards.

I’ll die at the ripe old age of seventy-five surrounded by my five cats and three dogs after saving hundreds of lives as a doctor. See? I have it all mapped out. My fingers press on the keys, letting the last note of the song fade of its own accord.

My focus flicks about the room. A few tables are filled. Out of the corner of my eye, I see-

I stare at the keys and dare not stray. I set up a book to sight read a new piece I’ve brought from home. The chill vibe to it would make it a perfect addition to any set. I glance up. A mistake. A big mistake.

The guy at the bar, the lab coat regular, is staring at me again.

Gentle tones drift through the restaurant. My heel twists so my toes land on the right pedal. I noticed a few shifts ago that he does it when I start playing. The bar regular turns in his chair to full face me and watches me the entire time I play. When I need a bathroom break, he coolly spins to face the bar as though he never saw me in the first place.

That didn’t bother me. In fact, it made me hope for tips. What unnerves me is how I know him. At least, I think I do. He has a hazy place in my memory like a background character in a dream – someone you know you _must have_ seen before but you can’t for the life of you place where.

The final notes of the song have my fingers dancing up and up until they leap off the furthest right key. I fold my hands in my lap and close my eyes. I could use a glass of water and a pee. I scoot the bench back and head towards the kitchen.

Like usual, the regular at the bar is pretending to ignore my existence.

Two cooks are working now, and the bitch of a waitress is tapping her foot and scolding them. I debate tripping her. Boss is nowhere to be found – on break, maybe. I fill a cup at the sink and stand near the coatrack.

The waitress is pacing back and forth. I trip her. Her shoulder slams into the wall, and the cooks laugh. I take a lengthy sip of water. Waitress is glaring at me, but it’s all she’ll do.

I wash the cup before leaving the kitchen. A whistle redirects my path. Hina the bartender is dealing with three customers but makes time for me. She slides me a note with money stuffed in the fold.

“The regular left this for you,” she says.

Then she’s off to mixing a cocktail. I hesitate to open the note. The lab coat guy is gone by now. I peer around anyway to make sure he’s not trying to watch my reaction. The rain is downright nasty. Lightning flashes, and a river has formed on the street outside.

He’s nowhere.

The handwriting is neat and written in an all-caps fashion I’ve noticed lots of men tend to use. Above the folded money, it reads: _“I admire your playing. The new song is great.”_

New song.

He noticed?

* * *

The rain during this exam season is fighting off my desire to splatter my brains against the wall. The campus library is full occupancy. Blissful silence settles all the same. I’m at a PC with partitions on either side protecting my scattered notes from prying eyes.

A professor said we could take a single page of handwritten notes into the exam. Naturally, I crammed every bit of white space with tiny text. I’ll need to take a magnifying glass, too, but it’s not like that’s against the _rules_.

Rustles distract me. Someone soaking wet sits at the computer next to me. The spot where their backpack rests is darkening the carpet by the passing second. Yeesh. Is it that hard to remember an umbrella?

I’m back to looking at Biology notes. My eyes begin to glaze over. I need a coffee. I take my wallet to the café at the front and order a macchiato. Anything at this point to keep my eyes open.

Back at my desk, the cup leaves a coffee stain ring on a stack of biology notes. I lift the warm mug and raise an eyebrow. At that moment, a scraping to my right drags up my attention.

A scrap of paper falls onto my notes from over the partition. Taking a sip, I use my index and middle fingers to spread open the weak fold. Fluorescent lighting catches on my pink nails, which have tiny daisies painted on. The note’s handwriting is an all-caps style I saw recently: _“Hi.”_

I lean back to steal a glance at the culprit. He’s soaked to the bone like when he first arrived; his lab coat is practically see-through. His long, dark hair sticks to his brown skin. Some gold hairs show through the black. The way the hair falls keeps me from making eye contact.

The ID laying on his desk is that of a TA’s. Fudo, Yusei. He’s older than me, yeah, but is he _creepy_ older than me? I’m 19, so one more year until I can order a drink at the bar like him.

But, if he’s already a TA…

I chew on the eraser of my mechanical pencil. The twisting of the writing utensil causes a _click-click-click_. It’s too brash to ask someone right of the bat, yeah? I scribble on the paper scrap a simple, _“Hey.”_

Sliding it back over the partition has my heart in my throat. The chair beside me scoots forward immediately in an almost excited way. Gee. This guy wears it all on his sleeve, huh? The paper passes back into my cubicle the next second.

_“Hi! My name’s Yusei! What’s yours?”_

It’s the second time “Hi” is written on the paper. I smile and rub the note back and forth. Ah. I think I know the perfect way to get the information I want out of him. I write, _“My name is Akiza Izinski. I’m 19 years old, and my major is Pharmacology.”_

I hear scribbles from next door instantly after dropping the note on his side. His return is exactly what I wanted to see: _“I’m Yusei Fudo, a 22-year-old after a Master’s degree. I’m shooting for a PhD ASAP. It’s amazing you pursue a difficult program while holding down a job.”_

Wow. He’s a straight-shooter bringing up my job like that. I guess he knows I recognize him. Throwing in the flattery, too. I can’t make it look like it’s working! I need to think of something quick.

I write, _“I thought you were the guy from the bar. You chug those Manhattans. I’d puke. Thanks for your tip and kind note the other day.”_

He responds, _“Of course! I meant every word! Do you happen to give lessons, and if so, what’s your price? After your exams, of course…”_

The three dots at the end feel like they carry the weight of the world.

I press lead to paper.

I hesitate.

_“$50 per hour – my place.”_

* * *

He’ll be here in five minutes. The rain is furious and unrelenting. I’m chewing my thumbnail as I watch droplets leave trails on the window. Mom won’t be home for hours, and dad’s on a month-long work trip.

Me and this stranger. Alone. God. It’s a bad idea, isn’t it? I’m stupid! I roll the too-long sleeves of my pink wool sweater over my knuckles. The floors and countertops are spotless. I did that. For the boy. Coming over.

A knock sounds from the entryway.

I bite down on my lip to stop myself from shrieking like a preteen girl at a K-pop concert. I clear my throat and straighten my back as I approach the door. My hand closes around the brass knob. My heartbeat accelerates as though the handle is electrified. The door creaks upon opening.

He’s soaked again, and his dark hair falls into his twilit-sky eyes. My eyebrows would fly into the sky if they could with how high they shoot. “Boy, do you even own an umbrella?”

A chuckle is born deep within his throat. He scratches at the dark skin of his neck. To tell the truth, I can’t tell if he’s ultra tan or Hispanic or whathaveyou. I don’t super care but I’d be lying if I said I’m not interested in him. All of him. God. I’m losing me already.

“You can’t trail in rainwater,” I say. “Come into the laundry room. You can borrow one of my dad’s shirts or something, but definitely leave your coat in there. I’ll be waiting in the study – across the hall to the right. The piano’s in there.”

His expression betrays his discomfort, but he nods. Good. I steamed the carpets myself and just can’t have that. I meander into the study and watch the teeny waterfalls cascade down the glass. Movement in the mirror catches my eye, and-

A small gasp passes my separated lips. The door to the laundry room is open. His shirt is off, and he’s squeezing the water out of it. He has a _bod_. Shit. I’m not making it through today. No way- huh? Weird. He has a couple scars at the base of his pecs. And, oh, defined they _are_ -

I slap myself. I’m not this horny, I swear! I groan and place my palms atop the piano. The gaudy, gold thing was mom’s choice, naturally. I trace the hand-painted accents with my finger. My nail is a swirl of pink and blue – for spring and the rain, I told the manicurist.

“Hey.” He’s in the room, and the white shirt he wears reaches the middle of his thighs. “You sure this is okay?”

I laugh out loud. “A crime to fashion but overall acceptable.”

His typical smile is a lazy lifting of the right corner of his mouth. The way it slightly squeezes his right eye shut – like a wink, almost – is just the most adorable thing. He sits at the piano, and I sit beside him. Our thighs press together. It’s not conventional for a piano teacher. None of this is. I love it. My gloves are on, and I debate taking them off.

“Hope this isn’t a disaster, but I haven’t brought any practice booklets,” he says. “Do you know any simple songs to start off the top of your head?”

“I had the morning shift, so don’t count on this brain. I have some old ones from when I was a kid. They should be in this basket.” I fish through the accessory next to the couch and hope he’s looking at my ass. Okay, that’s a little forward, but…

I snap my focus back to him the instant I have the books. He was _totally_ looking! I beam and say, “Found them!”

His smile’s sorta shaky this time. “Great.”

Settling the simple sheet music in front of him doesn’t ease him. His hands linger above the piano. I realize I need to begin with the basics. I teach him the spread of notes that make up the keys and where he would want to place his fingers to start this song. He asks about the pedals and I assure he has no need to worry about them yet, and he mentions that I use them often.

I can stop from smiling. I brush a rowdy, scarlet lock behind my ear. A part of me also wants him to have a better look. “You notice a lot.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Er, I hope it’s not weird.”

“It’s flattering,” I whisper. “Anyway. Let’s try with the metronome next.”

He does okay. Pretty good for a beginner. I tell him as much and correct his posture. I move his wrists to adjust the position of his fingers. The room’s hotter all of a sudden. AC must be acting up. That’s all.

“That’s all for today’s lesson,” I say. He looks sad. Gosh, I love how much of an open book he is! “Thanks for choosing me.”

“When can we meet again?”

My laughter is subdued, and I pull my sleeves over my knuckles again. “Next week.”

His nod is immediate. Excited. He says, “I was wondering if we could have it somewhere different. There’s an incredible grand piano in this tower at uni that my dad has access to. Oh, it’s… it should be private. It’ll just be you and me is what I mean. I want to be honest in case you want to warn someone or whatever you need to feel safe.”

I scratch my shoulder. “You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“No!” he shouts. “Not anything bad, anyway, but I wanted to tell the truth- damn. I just made myself out to be more of a creep, huh.”

A smile brightens my eyes, and I tell him: “Meet at the library.”

His stare shows his disbelief.

* * *

The storm ceased. The night is crisp, cold, and clear, the kind where I can taste the stars. The university is far enough away from the city to where a skeleton of the Milky Way’s arc is visible. Not a huge amount, like over the Grand Canyon, but a breathtaking view nonetheless.

A piping hot mocha warms my palms through the sleeve on the recyclable cup. Yusei and I exit the library shoulder-to-shoulder. He wears a tweed car coat and black scarf. Whenever his scarf tickles my skin, I feel a little something. I’m not wearing a coat or anything.

“Sure you won’t get cold?” he asks.

The concern affecting his tone is adorable. I know it sounds patronizing but I genuinely mean it. We’re approaching one of the university’s many dining halls perched atop a hill. “I’m a cold soul. Rarely need a jacket unless it brings an outfit together, y’know? Winter, late fall, and early spring are my favorite times of the year. Summer can fuck right off. You should see how I melt. Puddles of sweat!”

Our laughter rings through the night. It’s a weekday night on a break, so the area is empty and silent. He was right about us being secluded. His warning is making me feel better about it, though.

I did tell my mom about my date so somebody knew. She drilled into me about what family he came from, if they’re old money or new money, what sort of genes he carried – all stupid shit you wouldn’t want to know and, even if you did, they certainly aren’t first date asks.

I expect her to be a wackjob, so it’s fine.

Clearing my throat snatches Yusei’s attention away from the starry sky. “Where are you taking me, Dr. Fudo?”

His muscles tense. “You can’t call me that yet!”

The reaction is strong enough to be comical. My laugh seems to calm him down. We’ve peaked the hill, and a good stretch of campus is in sight. Yusei points to a shadow whose heights block out the crescent moon.

“No way,” I utter. “The conservatory tower?”

His pace quickens. The starlight lets me catch his grin. He wanted this, I supposed. Yusei must’ve looked forward to surprising me. We hasten towards the distant tower. The thing is massive, and its construction took years. The advanced tech and valuable instruments within require that the tower be open to greenlit researchers only.

Undergrads like myself have zero chance to see beyond the tower’s lobby. Unless, of course, a TA with the right credentials sneaks them in. They’d be at risk of losing their position. Wait.

“You could get in huge trouble for bringing me here!”

My whisper is harsh as we enter through sliding glass doors. His badge opens every lock. I recognize the silhouettes of sculptures in the lobby; my favorite is a nucleus whose protons and neutrons shift back and forth, their constant movement perpetuated by the way the sculpture’s creator took gravity into consideration.

Yusei presses his finger to his lips and swipes his badge at the elevator. Inside, he presses a button labeled “UL.” The elevator keeps. On. Going. The lift rumbling to a stop leaves me rocking on my black heels. Yusei leads the way. “Welcome to the upper lounge.”

My shoes click on the dark floor. I struggle to comprehend what I’m seeing. A bar makes up the end of the room, and couches, chairs, and tables are strewn about the left half. The right holds a stunning view.

A grand piano crowns a two-tiered platform. The tile surrounding the instrument is polished to perfection. The tall, glass windows rounding the upper lounge allow stardust to spill onto the furniture. The crescent moon’s silver and myriad of stars reflect off the tile, the platform, and the grand piano as though the stage is forged from the galaxy itself.

“It’s-” I have to swallow hard. “God, it’s gorgeous, Yusei.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his accomplished grin. “I think you’d like the view over here, too.”

The left half’s windows look out onto the distant city. Clusters of lights make it obvious where the hotspot is. The backroads and highways cutting through grass and trees to reach the center are also marked by zig-zagging lines of streetlights, gas stations, fast food stops – you name it. The city and major highways are reminiscent of a roadmap of constellations.

My shaking hand is covering my mouth.

I never want to leave.

Yusei gestured towards the piano. “For today’s lesson, maybe I could learn some by watching you.”

To be a part of a painting like this felt like ruining a wonder of the world. He asks so tenderly, though, that I can’t say no. I ascend the platform. My reflection in the key cover is a sight I was confident in before leaving for the date.

Tonight redefines beauty.

I ease open the cover. The seat creaks beneath me. The ivories are silver by the night. I play an old favorite I’ve known by heart since childhood: “Memory” from Cats. _“All alone in the moonlight”_ is too good an opportunity to pass up.

Thrilled applause ripples the silence after my performance. Yusei’s joy is genuine. He says, “I can’t believe this is real. I’ve had a dream just like this, I swear. I thought- I hoped you might like it here. I’ve- I hope it’s not too brash, but I honestly have wanted to take you out for… a long time. You have the most beautiful talent, Akiza, and your looks share that trait.”

Shit… he must’ve worked hard on that line. Part of me wants to brush it off and call him corny. Most of me is already blushing. I giggle and meet his eyes. In an endearing tone, I say, “Yusei…”

“Yeah?”

“This session’ll cost you double,” I say with a wink. His jaw drops. The instant I start laughing, he joins in.

Yusei says, “Don’t scare me like that!”

“The look on your _face_!” I exclaim.

We settle down around the same time. He’s staring at the floor. I didn’t take him for the bashful type. Considering how often he visited the bar without saying anything? I should’ve expected it. I march up to him. The crown of my head reaches his chin. He meets my eyes, and the starling blue of his irises is mesmerizing.

My shaking hand approaches his cheek. The focus of his eyes is darting between mine. I wonder what he sees but, by the way he treats me, by his reaction – he sees something greater than the dreamlike upper lounge.

Impossible to me, but that’s the loving and care-laced look he gifts me. I step even closer.

Then, I see it.

It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him and he wasn’t soaking wet. His hair is arranged nicely, which means it isn’t falling in his face. I have a view of his skin in the starlight now. Silver dances upon the watercoloresque mark upon his brow.

The mark is a rainbow-shaped shower of stars.

I stomp back. My heart is racing for all the wrong reasons. My shaking fingers aren’t protected by my usual gloves. I was _this_ close to-

I scream, “You asshole! I trusted you!”

He blinks as though innocent. “Huh?”

“You have the same mark as me,” I say through grit teeth. “You’re one of those lying, manipulative bastards who likes to toy with women like me, huh? You wanted me to disappear. You wanted another notch on your belt!”

“No, Akiza, please. It’s not like that! I can explain-”

My tears dot the shiny tiles. “Don’t bother. Stay far away from me as possible.”

I storm to the elevator and take the way down alone.

* * *

The rain is back with a vengeance.

It’s… nice. Like a difficult-to-explain solidarity. The world is crying with me. I’ve been locked in my room for three days. Boss was kind about my work schedule. I asked her if _that man_ has visited the bar. She says no.

Such a gross traitor. I can’t believe I fell so easily and so hard. I’m stupid. So stupid. I wonder how many others he’s taken to the upper lounge with his special privileges. I wonder how hard he was itching to tell his friends about who he made disappear just to touch him once.

Men suck.

Knuckles knock twice in perfect rhythm on my door. Must be mom. Her voice comes through: “Note came for you in the mail. Looks handwritten.”

She slides it under the crack and tells me she can make me dinner anytime. She knows the date went poorly but hasn’t pressed me on it. Bless that woman’s heart. She’s crazy on most topics but I get the feeling she loves me at least. She’d never… betray me.

I hesitate to flip open the note. His fine handwriting is recognizable. The note drawls on about how sorry he is and how there’s more to his side than I know. He asks to meet in a coffee shop near the café I work. The place is always packed, so I wouldn’t be at any risk. If he tried to forcibly touch me? There’d be witnesses. Plenty of men had been arrested for erasing their partners on purpose.

The vindictive thought brought me more joy than I care to admit, and it’s the only reason I choose to go. I might be hoping he grovels, too. Something to give me closure about this wicked man.

I throw on a black raincoat and brave the storm. The plinks of rain on my hood is a melody to the ears. It calms my beating, aching heart. I haven’t eaten much and have to stop a few times. I’m trembling already – my legs, mostly.

I’ll be okay, I tell myself.

A bell _ding_ s above the door when I enter. Yusei has a table at the very front. The line is long and the customers are like sardines in a can. He’s managed to keep the chair across from him from being stolen, though.

Yusei stands instantly. His chair nearly tips backwards. “Akiza-”

My glare never leaves him as I throw my coat over the chair. I don’t sit. “What do you want from me?”

“I have to- no. I’ll cut to the chase. I’m so sorry about how I’ve made you feel. I want you to know: that night, I never planned on touching you or let you touch me. I thought you realized from the start of the night that we- that our marks are the same. I’m so sorry.”

He never planned to..?

I thought back. Hard. He seemed mesmerized when I approached him. No. _I_ was. He. He stepped away. He backed up, and _that’s why I was able to see his mark_. If he’d kept looking down at me, the shadows never would have allowed me a peek.

But I was so caught up in the moment that…

My throat is tight when I say, “Y-you were wet when I saw you. Always. Your hair covered it.”

“It covered-” He slaps his forehead. “Oh, God. I didn’t even realize. I’m the biggest idiot on the planet. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Akiza. If anything had happened to you, I-”

“No, it’s okay!” I’m back to wearing my gloves, so I can lay my hand over his. “I made a big deal when I shouldn’t have. It was an unfortunate mistake, okay? If you feel that way, though, why would you try to date me? You knew!”

“I knew,” he murmured. “I couldn’t keep myself away. I hoped we could at least be friends. I didn’t even think of it as a date. It totally was, wasn’t it? I’m an idiot.”

I’m smiling like a fool. “You’re playing with fire.”

He shook his head. “I hate this world. We both have everything to lose.”

I want to scoff at the word “both.” I feel it still, though – a tug of the heartstrings whispering to me that he values me. I clear my throat. “Let’s step outside, okay? Too many prying eyes in here.”

He nods and follows. In my raincoat, I step into the storm. He remains beneath the store’s awning. I see him through a sheet of rainwater. I say, “Let’s spend more time together.”

The light forward step he takes details his exhilaration. “I’d love that.”

“All the time we have left.”

“You mean-” He does that bashful thing where he stares at the ground. I wonder what he sees in the rivers at his feet. “You like me, too?”

“Of course!” I scream. My eyes are stinging. I throw down my hood so they can be mistaken for rain. “You’re sweet and adorable and hot and I thought I’d struck gold! You were perfect, so it makes sense we’re marked together. The world’s made to be cruel. It is, and I love you. That night was- I’ve never felt what I do about you, Yusei. I couldn’t stop crying these past few days because I thought you were trying to…”

He links his fingers with mine, and the rain is falling over him, too. He’s back to the soaking wet man who passed notes with me like we were schoolchildren. “I’d never. Unless it- it’s something you wanted.”

Something I wanted…

Would I ever wake up and think to myself, “I’m ready to die today?”

No, of course not. For the marks we bear, disappearances happened upon impulses and desires.

I never understood before today.

My hands are at the nape of his neck, and his wet locks tangle in my grip. He says, “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

I study his sapphire eyes. “I know I’m not.”

His smile trembles. “I’m not, either.”

I pull him against me, and our lips meet. He tastes sweet. His arms are around me and the warmth and safety they provide was impossible to imagine weeks ago. He kisses me again – hungrily, this time, and again, and again, and again.

Tears and rainfall stain our skin. I’m ready. I’m ready and I’m happy I made this decision. I’d be gone but this is my world; this sweet cruelty is a beautiful demise.

My hands pass through empty air.

That’s it, then. This is the void that awaits me. This…

Is the same café?

No. _No._ He’s gone? Yusei is gone. That’s not possible. It doesn’t make sense. Is this what the after looks like? Am I a ghost? No, because the people inside are all the same. I glance around frantically and whimper his name. Nothing. That could only mean-

The scars on his chest…

My legs give. I sink to the wet concrete. The storm has cleared. I’m soaking wet and alone on the street.

Yusei Fudo was born a girl. He knew he was taking all the same risks as me, but he couldn’t stay away. I had treated him so awfully, too, and I… I made him- I did the same thing I thought he was trying to do to me.

_“I’m not, either,”_ he’d said.

I sobbed and wailed into my own skirt.


End file.
